


four.

by sstensland



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [4]
Category: Peter Rabbit (2018), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, This Is Where I Leave You (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:23:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstensland/pseuds/sstensland
Summary: “You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good” AU





	four.

Thomas rinses the facial mask off, making sure to get every spot before dapping his face dry with a fresh towel. Friday nights are Thomas’s favorite part of the week; he comes home from a full work week of 8-6 of dealing with every type of customer, of dealing with Nigel Bannerman as Associate General Manager—a position Thomas rightfully deserved, thank you very much—and throwing on his best customer service smile to every person he saw walk through the doors of Harrod’s, and spent the next several hours pampering himself. First, he pours himself a bath with a generous amount of the cedarwood and orange essential oil mix followed by the careful application of his favorite purifying mud mask after a careful wash of his face. Once the bubbles in his bath are at an adequate level, he relaxes himself into the tub, turning on the jets to work their magic on his tired muscles and place the two carefully cut cucumber slices over his eyes. The cucumbers come off after their allotted 15-20 minutes, tossed away into the small trash bin nearby.

He stays in the tub for another two, three hours, enjoying the gentle quiet of the night around him. Sometimes, his hands explore under the surface of the water, trail across his chest and play with a perking nipple. Sometimes they travel slower, nails scraping ever so lightly at the skin of his abdomen before his fingertips would graze along the soft surface of his hardening cock. Temptation always tried to win, but he became good at resisting: there was a whole night ahead of him, and so, so many things he had planned.

A loud mewling comes from the other side of the bathroom door as he gingerly applies both his facial serum and moisturizer. “I’m coming, Bea. Just two more seconds.”

Thomas rinses off his hands prior to slipping on the silk monogrammed bathrobe; the material soothing against his still pink skin, rubbing against him in a delicious manner. He straightens his posture as he turns to leave the bathroom. Once he’s out, he’ll feed Bea, which will keep her occupied for a while when he returns to his bedroom where his toys are awaiting him on the bed; maybe he should shut the door tonight, he’s feeling a bit feisty tonight and it would be best if Bea didn’t interrupt.

Bea follows him into the kitchen, circling around his feet along the way, fur tickling at his skin, and meowing as she goes. She purrs contently as she eats the food that Thomas pours into the bowl. He gives her a few gentle pets before making his way to his bedroom.

A loud bang on his door makes him jump, nearly hitting his head against the doorframe. He curses under his breath, but chooses to ignore it. Who in their right mind would be knocking on his door at this hour? No one that would actually be here for him. They’ll realize they have the wrong door and be on their way and leave Thomas alone.

“ _Chelsea! Open this damn door!_ ”

An American; certainly not for him then. Maybe it was for the girl upstairs from him, the one always fighting with someone at obscure hours in the morning and who had a bed frame that squeaks every time she’s fucked. (He had met her once at the mailboxes, and she was a pretty, young thing with bright blonde hair and possibly the largest breasts he’s ever seen. He thinks she tried flirting with him, but he had made it clear that she was definitely not his type. Perhaps the many nights he’s been kept awake by the loud bed and moans were a revenge for his less than graceful turn down.) He ignores the continued knocking on his door, getting hard and more rash with each hit. The guy will smarten up and realize he’s made a mistake soon enough and Thomas will be able to enjoy himself in peace.

The knocking stops and Thomas lets out a sigh of relief. Finally. He reaches down and runs his fingers over the arrangement of dildos and plugs lined up along the duvet. Oh, tonight will be a fun night; he’s going to make sure of that.

He picks up one of the glass plugs; it’s one of his smaller ones, but still heavy in his hand, smooth against his skin. Perhaps he’ll start with this tonight; take it nice and slow, build up his orgasm for the next few hours and really make sure that he gets to enjoy himself. It’s been a while since he’s last had that opportunity. His cock hardens at the thought of it.

A crash from the living room interrupts him. His heart pounds in his chest, and he’s thankful that he’s still somewhat decent to say the least, having only gotten as far as lubing up the plug.

“Chelsea! Where the fuck are you?” The words slur together. Great, this is just what he needed.

He inhales deeply before storming out into the living room. The door—that he’s certain was  _locked_ —is flung open, the small table beside it toppled over, the bowl he keeps his keys in now on the ground. Thomas’s face twists in distaste as he looks towards the center of the room. A man stands there, looking around confused. He’s tall, perhaps a bit taller than Thomas himself, but he is built; he looks like he could crush Thomas with a single squeeze if he so desired. His shirt clings onto his biceps and his jeans hug his thighs and curve of his ass. Thomas tries to push down the impure thoughts from his mind as the stranger’s eyes finally fall on him.

“You’re not Chelsea.”

“Glad you finally figured that one out.” Thomas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Where is she?” There’s an intensity in his eyes that should scare Thomas, but he can’t help but feel drawn to it, curious. His cock starts to harden again from interest, and he tries to shut it down.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. This is  _my_  apartment, after all.”

The man’s eyes widen. “Shit. Shitshit _shit_.” He continues to curse as he slumps himself onto the couch, hands running through his hair. Thomas tries not to stare at those large fingers, to think about how they’d feel against him. Damn this man and damn his intrusion. “Shit. I fucked up again. Of course, I did. Fuck.”

Thomas opens his mouth to say something, but instead focuses his attention on the way Bea jumps up onto the couch and curls up into this stranger’s lap like he’s a long lost friend. The traitor. 

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry. Look I’ll–” But Thomas has stopped paying attention. Instead, his eyes focus on the way those plush lips form each and every word, on how they would feel against him.

He needs to get this man out of here. It’s bad enough that he’s broken into his apartment and that Thomas is in nothing but a robe. He doesn’t need the man to be here any longer, hogging up his time with his stupid apologies when he should be upstairs talking to Chelsea.

Thomas crosses the distance from the end of the hall to the couch, carefully bending down to pick Bea up from this stranger’s lap. “Look, it’s fine.” He tries not to focus on those eyes on him, ignoring their gaze. “You’re drunk, you made a mistake and you apologized. Even my cat seems to like you, which is impressive. So, now–” he trails off, realizing he never got this stranger’s name.

“Phillip.”

“So, now, Phillip, if you wouldn’t mind. I was just about to go to bed, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving.”

“I can help with that.”

“Pardon?”

The stranger, Phillip, keeps his eyes straight ahead of him, eyebrow quirking up in a bit of amusement. When Thomas looks, he realizes Phillip is staring directly at his dick, held to his stomach by the tie of his bathrobe, which has left little to the imagination, the silk material hugging at his hard length.

“I’ve been told I’m good with my mouth.”

Thomas’s cock twitches with interest. “That-that won’t be necessary.”

“It’s the least I could do. To make up for the trouble I’ve caused.”

His mouth goes dry when Phillip’s hand touches at his hip, strong and steady. He tries to form words, but nothing comes to him. Not when he feels Phillips hand sliding down the curve of his thigh, down until he reaches the pocket of the robe where he feels—

Shit.

“What do we have here?” Phillip asks, intrigue in his voice as he reaches into the pocket and pulls out the plug he had forgotten he put there.

Thomas should put an end to this, but Phillip is looking at him in a way that he’s always dreamt of being looked at. And it’s been so, so long since he’s had a decent lay. He could afford a single one night stand. He’s deserved it, and as Phillip said, it’s the least he could do to make up for the trouble.

“Did I interrupt something?” The warm brown of his eyes has faded away, the low husk filling in his voice.

Thomas snatches the plug from his hand, the flush taking over every inch of his body. If this man is going to sit here and tease him, he might as well make some use out of him. He puts Bea down on the end table, eyes inspecting over Phillip’s face again. No, he definitely would not mind those lips wrapped around him.

“Wash your hands and meet me in the bedroom at the end of the hall. Oh, and don’t forget to shut the doors.”


End file.
